And then his lips were on mine and we were in it, pulling away from the past and rushing fast into the future.

You can’t re-create the first time you promise to love someone or the first time you feel loved by another. You chase it like the first high for the rest of your life. It doesn’t mean you can’t love another or move on; it just means that the one spontaneous moment, when your heart was racing and your mind was muddled with What ifs?—that moment—will never happen the same way again.

It’s the only way to know you’re really in love, when you ask the question would it be harder to watch him die, or to know he’ll watch me die? Is there more mercy in being the one who does the watching or in being the one who does the dying? It’s when you realize what mercy-killing actually means, it’s when you actually care to the point of tormenting worry. It’s not roses and white horses, it’s fucking brutal and it can send a person running for the hills. To love is brave.

New York has an energy that takes root inside of you. Even a transplant like me gets to know the different boroughs, like they're living, breathing organisms. There's nowhere else like it. The city becomes a character in your life, a love you can't take out of you. The mysteriously human element about this place can make you fall in love and break your heart at the same time.

Poetry is just evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.

To exist in each other’s souls so strongly that you are bound without a physical tie is the greatest mark of love…